Mean Boys
by B-pod
Summary: South Park/Mean Girls. A SP fic using the MG theme. Don't worry, its not completely copied from the MG script. The basic idea of this was by CarnivalRiotLovex3 on Youtube, and I was just lame enough to make a fanfic of it. Contains some slash/yaoi.
1. Hello, High School

**An idea from CarnivalRiotLovex3 with her _South Park is Mean _video (the link is on my profile). By watching this you can already tell who all the characters are going to be. If it were up to me I'd choose differently, but hell if it wasn't for that video I wouldn't even be writing this shit. Just a stupid OOC filled knock-off collab of the movie Mean Girls using South Park characters (who--I repeat--have the personalities of the characters from MG, meaning they are totally OOC). This story is totally out there with little sense involved that I didn't actually plan on posting to the world and is only written for fun. My friend encouraged me to post this and I have nothing else going on, so here it is. Probably the gayest fanfic you will ever read -_-  
By the way, some stuff is changed up a bit so it wasn't like I just took the Mean Girls script and switched the names around. Its got the same plot-line, just said a little differently.  
And just a warning, this is all unbalanced. It keeps on switching from present-tense to past-tense, since I suck majorly at first-person POV. **

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**Chapter 1: Hello, High School  
**

I guess it's natural for parents to cry on their kid's first day of school. But, you know, this usually only happens when the kid is five.  
"Oh! My little Bubbula's first day of school! I can't believe it!" my mother sobbed into my chest while giving me a bone-crushing hug with her meaty arms. While struggling to breath, I patted her back comfortingly, glancing over at my dad for help. Thankfully, he stepped forward.  
"Sheila, get a hold of yourself. He'll be fine." My mother pulled away and switched to squeezing the life out of her husband instead, wailing more dramatically than ever.

I'm sixteen, and until today I was home-schooled. I know what you're thinking. 'Home-schooled kids are freaks'. Like these two kids I knew years ago, Mark and Rebecca, who happened to be the cleverest kids I knew, but also the awkwardest. Mark spoke in the properest of ways, and his sister Rebecca was always fidgeting and speaking at the quivering speed of a high chipmunk (like that even makes sense). Or you may be thinking that we're weirdly religious, or something. But not me. I'm just your average Joe. Unless you happen to think Judaism his 'weirdly religious'. Or that living my past twelve years in Africa with my research zoologists parents and Canadian brother, being the paled skinned, red-headed American I am, isn't normal.

Anyway, I had a great life. But then my mom got offered tenure at Colorado University of Mines. So it was goodbye Africa, and hello high school. And that's why my mother his currently bawling her eyes out and my father his blinding me with his flash-camera for the family album.

My eleven-year old brother steps out onto the porch, my paper lunch-bag in hand.

"You forgot this," he says, holding the the brown bag up for me to take. I smile appreciatively down at my sibling and ruffle his black hair, taking the lunch with my other hand. The lucky bastard doesn't start elementary school until next week.

"Thanks, Ike," I say before he hurries back inside.

"Come now, Kyle. I'll walk you to school," Dad calls to me. I nod and we make our way down our new street, waving goodbye to my hysterical mother.

* * *

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but certainly not this. I'm almost scarred to walk through the crowd of (what I guess are) my new school-mates. In front of me I see kids setting a backpack into flames (I'm pretty sure they aren't allowed to do that), kids who looked like they just rose from the dead (seriously, they look like vampires or something), some with all these pins--even safety pins--stuck in their faces (if they even came within five feet of my refrigerator, their faces would be covered in magnets too), kids who were tackling each other (I can't tell if they're fighting or fooling around, but either way I don't want to get too close), and kids, by the way they were glaring at me, looked like they were ready to pounce on me like hungry lions and tear me to shreds. I honestly can't believe I made it to the school gates without more than the shove I received in the shoulder and a football to the head.

Once I was safely (not so much) in the hallways, I pulled my class schedule out of my bag to remind myself where my homeroom was. I leaned against the lockers and scan my eyes over the yellow sheet of paper.

Homeroom: 536

Oh, Moses. Great. So now I have to climb five floors up and reach the other side of the building before the bell rings.

* * *

Totally not my day! Where the flip is this damn room?! I've been walking around for minutes (trust me, a lot longer than it sounds), and I still can't find stupid room 536! Way to get off to a good start of public high school, Kyle. I guess I should ask someone. Mom and Dad told me that if I ever needed help with anything, I could just ask the teachers or "the big kids" for their aid. I pick this brown-haired boy in a sports jacket across the hall talking to a group of girls.

"Uh, excuse me?" The boy looks up with a crooked eyebrow. He looks me up and down in a confused manor.

"Yeah?"

"I'm new here, and I was wondering if you could help me find room 536?" I asked as politely as I could. His amused expression sort of creeps me out.

"New, huh?" I nod in response, still awaiting for his directions. "Okay, see, what ya gotta do is: You go down those stairs, take a right over by the pool, then through the courtyard where you take another right into the next building..." As he went on, I struggled to keep up and remember each step.

"...Okay, thanks..." I said when he finally finished. He flashed me a grin with teeth that were undoubtedly whitened.

"No problem, man. Welcome to South Park High." I gave him my gratitude once more before heading down the stairs across the hall.

Now lets see. He said take a left--no, right--and I should be able to find a pool. A pool, huh? That's pretty cool. I didn't know this school had a pool. Okay, I should be approaching it right about now.

...

Where the hell is the pool? He _did_ say to the right, didn't he? Oh well, I'll try the left.

...

Boiler room? Just were the heck am I? Did I take a wrong turn? Shoot! The bell just wrung! Fantastic, now I'm late on my first day.

I spot a girl over at the end of the nearly deserted hall I am now in, exiting a bathroom.

"Hey, excuse me!" I shout down the corridor, fastening my pace to reach her. "Can you help me out?"

She waits for me to make it to her side. "Sure. What's up?"

"Could you tell me where the pool is?" She raises a black eyebrow at me.

"Pool?"

"Yeah. See, I'm trying to get to class and this kid told me to find the pool somewhere around here, but I can't find it." I smile awkwardly, slightly embarrassed to admit that I was lost. What a lousy sense of direction I have. The girl snickers, shaking her head, her long raven locks dancing around as she did so.

"There's no pool here at SPH. You got played for a sucker."

I don't know what "played for a sucker" means, but I did understand the first part. Which means... that that boy lied to me? Why would someone do something like that? My God, I feel so stupid. Are all the kids at this school like that? Hopefully not this girl I'm talking to.

"So, which class are you looking for?" she asked. I'm glad to see she's still willing to help me. I hold up my schedule for her to see.

"I'm trying to find room 536. Do you know where that is?" She reads over the number for herself.

"Oh hey, that's my homeroom," she says. I look at her in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I was just on my way there now. Come on, I'll show you how to get there." I sighed with relief. It's a good thing I asked her. Or else I might have been wondering around for this non-existent pool all day.

During our walk, the girl I was following decided to bring up a conversation.

"So are you new here or what?" she asked, half glancing at me behind her shoulder.

"Yeah, I just moved here from Africa." She frowned a little and turned around more to get a better look at me.

"Africa? Huh. You're the whitest African I've ever seen."

I smiled halfheartedly at this, not sure if it was supposed to be funny or not. I realize we haven't been properly introduced.

"My name's Kyle."

"Wendy," she informed, looking straight ahead again. "Testaburger." I chuckled at the last name.

"Test-a-burger?" I pronounced. "That's a weird name." Oh damn, maybe I shouldn't have said that.

But Wendy only snorts an "I know, right?", making me feel more content.

A couple of stair flights later, the two of us enter a room full of noisy students. It appears the teacher isn't here yet. Thank God. Maybe today isn't going to be so terrible after all.

Wendy walks over to a small blond boy who looked to be sleeping on his desk. She removed her backpack and let it drop to the tiled floor, the abrupt sound it caused awakening the boy. He made a sort of snorting noise as his body gave a sharp twitch. After yawning loudly and rubbing his sleepy blue eyes, he blinked up at us. He smiled at the sight of Wendy.

"Oh, morning there, Wendy. Where are we?" He glanced around him, trying to remember his surroundings. When his gaze landed on me, his eyes widened, making me feel off guard. "Jeepers! Your hair is crazy!" he exclaimed in a way that almost sounded horrified. Before I could respond, not that I knew what to say, he jumped out of his chair and waltzed over behind me. I felt an uncomfortable crawling under my skin as the boy felt his fingers through my curls. "I mean, the color is gorgeous, but just look how bushy it is! Look, Wendy! It bounces back when you poke it." Wendy laughed at this, my expression was probably freaked out.

"Leave him alone, Butters. He's insecure." I'm not exactly sure how to feel about that 'insecure' comment, but at least it got this Butters kid's massaging hands out of my hair. I'm a little sensitive about my frizzy due, and don't particularly appreciate people pointing it out so openly. Wendy leaned towards the blond and loudly whispered, "He's new. From Africa." As expected, Butters stared at me in surprise.

"Africa?" I nodded, keeping my gaze away from his eyes. He tilted his head to the side a bit, looking confused. "Huh..." was all he said.

Wendy sat herself down in the desk in front of Butters', motioning for me to sit down next to her.

"This is Butters," she told me, pointing a thumb behind her at the boy who waved at me with a friendly smile. She added in another one of her loud whispers, "He's almost too gay to function." I would have thought this as an offensive thing to say, but apparently not Butters.

"She always says that," he giggled girlishly.

I grinned politely. "I'm Kyle."

"M'kay, settle down, students. M'kay?" a deep voice said before Butters could reply. I looked up to see a big-headed skinny man standing by the doorway. The man pushed the bridge of his round glasses up is pointed nose, frowning impatiently when the class continued about their business, paying him no mind. "Can I have you're attention please?" he said in a raised voice. The class continued to ignore him. It baffles me how disrespectful these teen aged Americans are.

Another figure stumbled behind the lanky man in the doorway. The man moved aside for a panting middle-aged guy with an arm full of supplies (books, coffee, eta.).

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized to anyone who was listening. He walked to the desk in the front of the room and dumped his things onto it, giving me the clue that he must be the teacher. "Traffic and crap."

"M'kay, Mr. Garrison. I was just trying to get these kids' attention," the large headed man told the other. Mr. Garrison looked over the students. Butters, Wendy and I were probably the only ones being quiet. Everyone else was up all over the place, chatting to one another and throwing things about.

"HEY!" I jumped in my seat at the ear splitting shout coming from the teacher. "TAKE YOUR SEATS AND SHUT THE HELL UP!" Every single kid fell silent and scurried to their desks. After all the sounds of chair legs scraping against the floor died down and Garrison was sure he had everyone's attention, he motioned for the other man to speak.

"M...kay... Well, students, I was just stopping by to welcome you all to your new year of being... what are you, juniors? Anyway, for those of you who don't know me from the years before, my name is Mr. Mackey, m'kay? I'm the school's counselor. If you ever feel the need to speak to me, feel free to stop by my office at any time. Also, I'd like to introduce a new student who just transferred here from Africa." He glanced down at a sheet of paper in his small bony hand. "A Kyle Bro...flo..."

"Broflovski, sir," I said aloud to help the man out with my rather difficult name. I can feel the whole class turn their eyes on me, and my cheeks start heating up against my will.

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**Worst possible spot to end the chapter at. This chapter is so horribly boring, I hate it. Probably because the 'Plastics' haven't made their entrance yet (which will be in the next chapter). I mean... Colorado University of Mines? Well, its not like I could use Northwestern University like in the movie (I think that's in Illinois, right? idk), so I googled "best university in colorado". I don't know anything about it. Just roll with it. And the only characters who don't fit with the Youtube video are the teachers. Its not like Mr. Mackey is the principal and Principal Victoria is the teacher. I sincerely hope that you liked this, or at least are interested in it enough to continue reading. And if you are, please review. Hell, even if you aren't I'd like your reviews. Thanks for reading.  
**


	2. The Plastics

**Thanks for the reviews, you guys :D I really really appreciate them all.**

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**Chapter 2: The Plastics**

I guess you could say I've already made friends with Wendy and Butters. Which is great, because I wouldn't want to eat lunch alone. Speaking of lunch, that's were we're headed to right now. So far today has been going rather smoothly. Nothing special about the classes besides all of my teachers have yelled at me for the simplest things, but it turns out I actually have quite a few classes with either Wendy or Butters or both. I guess my luck is changing for the better. Except right now the halls are incredibly over crowded with hungry teens fighting their way past each other to the cafeteria. It was like a stampede, expect more slow and tight like traffic. If it wasn't for Wendy and Butters guiding me through, I probably would have been trampled by now. I can't even see past the bodies of people in front of me. Why was everyone so freaking tall? Either that or I'm just short.

Suddenly, I heard a voice. The voice of the person I unknowingly am going to have my whole being revolved around in a matter of time.

"Move aside, assholes!" an intimidating, scratchy-sort of voice echoed through the halls. Kids started moving aside, like cars moving off the road for an ambulance to get by. I watched as the kids around me departed towards the walls to make a path for whoever the voice belonged to. Soon only me and my two new friends were standing in the middle of the hall. I could now see who the teenagers had made way for. Strutting towards us were three boys. Three beautiful boys, who looked like they just returned as guests on _Queer Eye For The Straight Guy._ On the left from my view was a smiling boy with hay-blond hair, winking at every other person who happened to be looking his way. He wore a light purple long-sleeved shirt covered in a fuzzy pink vest, and leg-strangling black jeans. To the far right was a tall black-haired boy who starred ahead with a look on his face that showed he was in deep thought. Atop his head sat a blue hat with a sparkly cherry-red poof-ball on top. All he had for a top was a fish-net tank top that clearly exposed his rocky abs and pecs. His red leather pants might have been even more tight then the last boy. And the one walking in between the two was the one soaking in just about all of the attention in the corridor. A rather tubby boy with light brown hair jelled into spikes, and these intense, mysterious chestnut colored eyes that happen to be starring directly at me. His round figure was hugged in a cotton candy blue t-shirt that read '_Bad Boy_' in white cursive letters across his chest. His light blue jeans (also tight as sin) looked as if they had been mauled.

The three stopped right in front of us. The other two of the boys were looking at us in confusion, while the one in the middle bore his gaze into my eyes. There was something about those chocolate-like eyes that tweaked my mind. There was something deep inside there that I didn't recognize. That I've never seen in a person before. Just then I noticed that he had said something.

"Sorry?" I said, blinking. The big boy looked slightly annoyed to have to repeat himself.

"I _said_, 'umm, move?'," he answered impatiently, his thick hands rested on his wide-set hips.

"Oh, sorry, uh..." I moved out of the triples' way and joined Butters--who had already sneaked away before I noticed--in the crowd by the wall. But Wendy stood her ground. The large boy glared at her, and she glared back. The other two companions of the big teenager glanced at each other, then back at the two and their scowling contest, along with the rest of the student body.

"Well, ho?" he said in a nasty tone. Wendy scrunched up her nose and furrowed her brow.

"There's plenty of space to walk around me," she exclaimed. "Or are you too fat to fit?" Some of the students gasped. This was like a show or something. I had no idea what was going on.

"Oho!" the boy laughed, flicking his head back. "What a witty little retort. Did you spend all night putting that one together just for me?" Wendy flushed. I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. "Stop wasting my time, bitch, and just move it." When Wendy still ceased to budge, the boy pushed past her, rashly smashing their shoulders together as he did.

"Fuck you, bastard," Wendy muttered under her breath.

"You wish," the boy called out, hooking his think thumbs in his jeans pockets while his two friends scurried to his side. When the three boys turned a corner, the crowd started to flow again.

* * *

I nibble on my cheese sandwich slowly. Wendy didn't seem in the mood to talk since that little predicament in the hallway. She had this dark era around her that warned people to leave her be. Butters every once in a while would try to lighten the mood by discussing something totally random or sticking ham slices to his face, but nothing he did seemed to be helping.

A few tables over, in the center of the cafeteria, sat the three boys from before. The trio sat in a single row beside each other, with no other company sitting with them. I couldn't manage to keep my gaze away from them for very long at a time. A few times I caught the chubby one starring my way. I swear he was starring right at me. He always had this deeply concentrated look on his face, and didn't even blink if he saw me looking back. My curiosity of the three was overwhelming me, and I decided to investigate.

"Who are those three?" I asked Butters across from me, for Wendy was still looking a bit too moody to start a conversation with, let alone one having to do with this. He didn't even have to turn and look to know who I was talking about.

"The Plastics," he answered simply, taking a bite of his hamburger.

"The Plastics?" I repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. But they're the top of the school. Teen royalty." I blinked, still not catching on.

"They're nothing but evil little sluts," Wendy finally spoke in a menacing voice.

"Are--*cough*--Are they gay?" I had to ask.

"Are they _gay_?" Wendy exasperated. "Kyle, you look at those get-ups and tell me they aren't."

"I heard they have gangs bangs with each other all the time. You know. Threesomes," Butters gossiped in a lower tone.

"Bet ch'you would give anything to join them," Wendy joked.

"Ew," Butters said with a disgusted face.

"So, what are their names?" I continued with my questions.

Wendy gave me this frown that said "Why do you care?" but Butters seemed ready to answer. He turned in his seat and looked in the direction of the 'Plastics' table.

"See the blond?" I looked at the one in the fluffy vest, laughing at something the fat-ish boy was telling him. "That's Kenny McCormick."

"The _dumbest _human being on the face of the Earth," Wendy commented, shuffling her plastic fork around in the beans sitting on her Styrofoam tray. "I swear, his IQ is that of a fly."

"And the tall one in the rosy sunglasses is Stan Marsh," Butters went on. The black haired fish-net boy was chugging at his milk while tapping his thumb away at his phone. "In middle school he used to be the star of the football team."

"Why not anymore?" I asked. Butters shrugged.

"He became a Plastic," was his answer. "You know, he and Wendy went out for a while." I looked over at Wendy for confirmation.

"Oh, shut it. That was in elementary school." Wendy flicked a pea into Butters' lemon-yellow hair.

"They still dig each other," Butters teased, grinning mischievously.

"I said shut up! We absolutely do _not_," she slammed her palm on the table to emphasize her point.

"Wait, I thought you said they were all gay," I said, perplexed.

"First of all, we never said that. And if you ask me, Stan's just a wanna-be metro for show. The one I knew years ago was defiantly not a homo. I bet he just dresses and acts like that to fit in with the Plastics and get attention," Wendy explained. I glanced at the boy once more. He was rubbing glittery lip bomb on his lips while starring at himself in a compact mirror. Seemed pretty queer to me.

"He's filthy rich because his grandpa invented Eggo waffles," Wendy said in a mock-impressed voice. "He's also the king of gossip. He's like a walking encyclopedia of every person--including staff--in the school. Besides you, he knows everything about everyone."

"That's why his poof-ball's so big. It's full of secrets," Butters said in a mysterious whisper, making me laugh a little.

"And the last one?" For some reason, he was the one I was most interested in knowing about. Wendy made a soar face and scowled at the boy tables over.

"_That_," she hissed. "_That_ is the devil in disguise. Evil in human form. Eric Cartman. Not only is he the gayest, most selfish back-stabbing fatassed slut-faced racist and conceded ho-bag..." Wendy paused for a moment, trying to figure out what words to describe him with.

"He's the ruler of the entire school," Butters worded for her. "He's got this manipulative nature and can make just about anyone do what he says with the snap of his fingers. He's an evil genius. The most popular guy in school, for some reason. I heard he's even slept with every guy on the varsity football team _and _the soccer team. Everyone knows who he is. He even gave his teacher a lap dance last year for an A+ on his report card. Or so I've heard. He's basically the alpha of the Plastics. The other two are his little followers that are just used to stand there and look pretty. They cling to him like leeches. He's also got-"

"Okay, Butters. That'll do," Wendy interrupted on her friends rant. She leaned over to me and said in that Irish whisper, "He's obsessed with him."

"No, I'm not _'obsessed with him'_!" Butters defended, his cheeks tinted red.

"He used to do anything for Cartman in junior high. He was his own personal slave." Butters grumbled at Wendy and frowned his blushing face down at his food. "Then Cartman cheated his way into taking Butters' place as Spring Fling king."

"He sure did!" Butters spoke up in an angry shout. "He wins Spring Fling _every. single. year._"

"What's the 'Spring Fling'?" How many questions have I asked today? Oh, there's another one.

"Ah!" Butters lightened up with excitement. "The Spring Fling is a dance for the underclassmen, and there's this part were kids vote who they want to be the king and queen of the year. Whoever gets elected automatically becomes head of the Student Activities Committee. That's all I've ever wanted, boy howdy, but Eric Cartman steals it every time! It's not fair. He doesn't even care about the SAC." I didn't bother asking what the Student Activities Committee was. I wanted to keep the Plastics on topic.

"Look, Kyle," Wendy said, fully facing me now. "All you have to know is to stay away from those three. They can't be trusted. Got it?"

"Uh, okay." She sure seems serious about this.

The bell rang, signaling that lunch was over, and I still had so many more questions about the Plastics. I don't know why I'm so interested to know about them. Especially Eric Cartman...

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**_I NEED HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _  
Did I get your attention? Hopefully. So, I would have made this longer except for one little dilemma that I was hoping you guys could help me with. For those of you who don't already know this, I'm going to spoil it for you right now. Aaron is Craig. And for those of you who don't know who Aaron in, hes the guy Cady (Kyle) has a crush on. So this means there's going to be some Cryle in here. Not much though. So anyway, I'm stuck on how to introduce Craig into the story. In the movie, he asks Cady for a pencil, but that seems kinda weak. So I was gonna have him get in trouble with the teacher and that's how Kyle comes to notice him. Problem is, Cady falls head over heels for Aaron at first sight. But to have Kyle crushing on a guy like Craig like a little school girl is too OOC for me to handle. So my question for you is if you can give me any suggestions as to how this is going to work? I seriously need some help or else there might be a big delay for chapter 3.**

**This chapter is so stupid. I'm not satisfied with how its written, and the OOCness is making me sick. In case you didn't know, an Irish whisper is like a really loud whisper. It doesn't mean Wendy was speaking in an Irish accent or anything. I hope you guys liked this more than I do, and review please. Maybe it'll give me the strength to make this less crappy.  
**


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